GOD FORMULA

Noah Shepherd woke to the familiar thud of something heavy crashing against the garage wall. It was obviously Derp, his oversized foster brother, waking him up horribly for fun. The vibration rattled the thin metal roof overhead, sending a sprinkle of dust onto Noah's face.

The young man didn't open his eyes right away. He just lay there on the deflated air mattress that served as his bed, breathing in the stale mix of oil, rust, and mildew that clung to everything in this corner of the garage.

Another day of being eighteen years old, he thought bitterly. Another day of pretending this is normal.

The rain outside was a steady roar, pounding like it wanted to get in. Noah finally cracked his eyes open and stared at the underside of the wooden staircase that loomed over him. The ceiling was his constant reminder that he lived beneath everyone else in this house. Literally.

"Noah!" Mindy's voice exploded from inside the main house, venomous enough to cut through the walls. "I swear to God, if you're still sleeping while the rest of us are up working, I'll come out there and drag you in by your ear!"

He sat up slowly, wincing as his head grazed the low beam. Yesterday, after a nightmare, he sat up bolt upright and hit the same spot. Ouch!

Noah's fingers fumbled for the pill bottle on the overturned plastic crate he used as a nightstand. He shook it. One pill rattled inside. Just one left for Lia's seizures. The pharmacy had jacked the price again—ninety-two dollars now.

Noah had scraped together nineteen bucks from odd jobs and skipping lunches. It was not nearly enough.

Lia had two seizures last week, he remembered, his stomach twisting. If I don't get the refill today...

He dressed in silence into yesterday's stiff jeans and a hoodie. Noah pulled the hood up, hiding the fresh bruise on his forehead, and stepped through the side door into the house.

The kitchen hit him with comforting warmth and delicious smells—bacon frying, and coffee brewing—but none of it was for him.

Derp was already at the table, massive and sprawled like he owned the place. The foster brother—biological son to Mindy and Ron—shoveled scrambled eggs into his mouth, leaving grease shining on his chin.

"Took you long enough, garage boy," Derp said without looking up, but his smirk was audible. "Mom's pissed. She said that you're cleaning the whole bathroom today since I got weight training after school."

Mindy stood at the stove, her back rigid, and a cigarette dangling from her lips. She didn't turn around. "Damn right he is. And don't even think about touching the bacon, Noah. That's for Derp—he needs protein for his sports. You can have toast if you make it yourself."

Noah's mouth watered painfully at the smell of bacon. He hadn't eaten since a stale granola bar yesterday afternoon. "What about Lia's medicine?" he asked quietly, hating how small his voice sounded. "The refill—"

Mindy spun then, her eyes narrowed to slits. Ash flicked from her cigarette onto the floor. "Oh, here we go again with the medicine bullshit! That girl's been nothing but a drain since the day you both showed up. We take you in out of the goodness of our hearts—feed you, put a roof over your heads—and this is the thanks we get? Whining about pills we can't afford?"

"They're not for me," Noah said, heat rising in his chest. "They're for Lia. She'll—"

"I don't give a damn!" Mindy snapped, stepping closer. "Ron's working double shifts to keep this family afloat, and Derp's got college scouts looking at him. You? You're eighteen now. Time to start contributing or get out. Both of you. I'm serious!"

Derp chuckled. "Yeah, take your crippled sister and hit the streets. Save us all some money."

Noah's hands balled into fists at his sides. Hit him. Just once. But he didn't. He never did. Derp was built like a tank. He was a football star—and Noah was... Nothing. Scrawny. Broke. Invisible.

He grabbed a glass of tap water instead, drinking it slowly while staring at Lia's closed bedroom door down the hall. She was probably awake, listening to all this. Pretending to sleep so she didn't make it worse.

The walk to Synergy Academy took 30 minutes in pouring rain, since there was no bus fare left after last week's groceries. Concord City's lower districts looked like a war zone that never got rebuilt—cracked sidewalks flooded with brown water, and holographic ads flickering half-dead promises of "Better Jobs Tomorrow."

Hybrid gangs huddled under porches, looking to sell drugs or other illegal items. Hybrids were human beings who used animal serums to disfigure themselves, often becoming rejects of society in the process. The rare success stories became heroes or villains.

Noah kept his head down. His hood was soaked through, his shoes squelching annoyingly. By the time he reached school, he was shivering.

The bullying started immediately. Cory Gilbert and his crew—rich kids with augmented implants and designer uniforms- were waiting inside the entrance, out of the rain.

"There he is," Cory called out, his voice carrying down the hall. "The walking welfare case. Still stinking like garage grease, Shepherd?"